Bond of the Soul
by Child Of the Faeries
Summary: Hm... this is a kind of weird alternate reality fic. Two young men are bonded by ancient magic. One is a rebel, a servant to none. His companion is a nobleman dressed in white who has a past as dark as his friend. Together, they must learn to trust each o
1. Ashram of Mercy

Bond of the Soul by Child of the Faeries  
  
  
Always there was pain. The never-ending dull tore into Yamato's flesh, and he didn't make a sound as blood ran down his sweaty brow. Beside him Ken sat, his face serene. "A true soldier never cries out in pain," Ken said impassively, never daring to look at his friend. "He must be willing to give everything, even his life, to protect the greater good."  
  
Yamato grimaced as blood flowed into his mouth, and fought off the urge to spit it on the ground. He would receive thirty lashing for such an action. "He must never think of himself, or of his comrades," Ken continued. This time he did look up, and caught Yamato's hate-filled eyes. "He must never lose control over himself."  
  
A servant came and administered another blow to Yamato's head. He remained immovable, subjected to this from early childhood. All of his memories were obscured with hate and violence.   
  
Numerous scars ran down his face and hands. Yamato's rebellious spirit had gotten him in a lot of trouble in the past, but no longer. He would now be a faithful soldier.   
  
He had to be. If he didn't, they would kill him.  
  
Ken stood up, his pure white clothing contrasting harshly against the dark cell. "I pray you will control your temper next time, Yamato, or prison with the rats will be heaven compared to what Massah will do to you." He bent down low, careful not to touch his bloody friend. "I fear for you, Yamato. You may have gone too far this time."  
  
"All I did was steal a piece of bread," Yamato said brusquely, "It is a far more honorable thing to do than starve like you." He received another blow from the servant.   
  
"Never speak to your comrade in such a way," the servant said darkly. "It is you that disobeyed Massah, not him."  
  
Yamato looked at Ken, who lowered his head. "I leave you to your darkness. May Massah take pity on your soul and penitence be granted." His white boots clicked together sharply as he strode out of the filthy prison. The servant, satisfied that his work was done, kicked Yamato's jaw hard as he walked past, a smile on his face.  
  
"You think you are so special, self-ruling Yamato. I will see that Massah makes you pay." He pulled the door shut tight, and darkness surrounded Yamato.   
  
Sitting straight up, he didn't bother to wipe the blood off of him. When the time came, Massah would only make him bleed more, and it was pointless. The rats squeaked, thrilled that there was fresh blood in the dungeon. Blood excited them.   
  
They ran forward, their teeth latching on to his feet and clothing. Dismayed, Yamato picked one up, clenching it his fist and tossed the rat to the other side of the cell. It squeaked and hurried back, burying it's razor sharp teeth in the flesh of his arm. Yamato didn't move. He was used to the pain by now.   
  
How many times had he been thrown down here? Hundreds? He remembered as a child, screaming while the rats rushed in, his fear feeding their lust for blood. Massah had left him for hours down below, the rats chewing at his skin, making him wish for death. He was just a helpless child against a multitude of flesh-eating vermin.  
  
Yamato was no longer a child. Such pitiful creatures could no longer frighten him.   
  
For hours he sat in the dark, only the ravenous rats for company. He never lowered his proud head, never let the biting pain infiltrate into his soul. It was like an annoying gnat, easily ignored.  
  
Finally the door swung open, and Yamato was momentarily blinded by the light. "Massah wishes to speak with you," Ken said dully, pulling Yamato to his feet. Ken led, servants bowing before the nobleman fitted out in only white clothing. Yamato had often wondered how Ken was able to keep his clothing so snowy-looking, considering the amount of violence that went on inside the temple.  
  
They were in the Ashram of Mercy, a place of sanctuary for the weary soul, or so it was supposed to be. A child without a family, Yamato had been taken here at a young age, raised by the Massah's wisdom, to become a warrior. Few in the entire country were as strong as Yamato, or as brave. Ken was one of them.  
  
With a flick of his wrist, Ken ordered the doors opened, and they entered Massah's Hall. The lights glowed eerily blue in here, and Yamato never could help feeling cold in the presence of the Massah. The hair on his arms stood on end, energy whizzing past his ears. Ken fell to one knee, and Yamato followed in suit.  
  
"My child," Massah said softly, rising to his feet. "Why must we continue to play these games? I thought you were grown-up now."  
  
"I am sorry, Massah," Yamato said sullenly, not looking up. He was careful to guard his voice, allowing no sign of anger to show, only repentance.   
  
"Why, Yamato?" the Massah asked, rapping his fingers against his steel throne. "I have done everything I could for you."  
  
"Your warriors are hungry, Massah. I was desperate."  
  
"But in robbing that poor man of his bread, you thus starved his children. Is that fair to them?" the Massah asked, and Yamato held back an impatient growl.   
  
"I did not know, Massah."  
  
Massah did not looked convinced. The grave frown that he wore on his face had not ceased. Ken rose his head. "He has served his time in the dungeon, in penance."  
  
"That is good." The Massah seated himself back in his throne. "But penance is not good enough this time." Yamato's spirit sunk, afraid of the punishment. "You must go to that man's house and work for him until your debt has been repaid. Ken will go with you, to ensure that you work a fair share. And you are to receive fifty lashings, now." He gestured with his ring infested hands, and a servant dressed in red stepped forward, a crop in hand. Her face was filled with excitement.  
  
"Massah......he has already suffered," Ken interjected, rising to his feet. "Is it really fair-"  
  
"Do not interfere," Massah said richly, and the servant began. Yamato rose to his feet, his hands balled into fists. Each lash was like another lick from a serpent, teasing him.   
  
Sweat poured down the girl's face as she continued lashing him, frustrated. She had been trained to break the men, turn them to bloody pulp. He wouldn't back down.  
  
"That is enough," Massah commanded twenty minutes later. "He is a warrior, not a common servant boy like you are accustomed to. He will not cry." Yamato's eyes remained indifferent as he gazed at the Massah, warm blood running down his back. "Be off, then. The sooner you go, the sooner you will return."  
  
"We must go to the clinic first, and bandage the wounds," Ken said quickly. Yamato shook his head.   
  
"I will bear my wounds with sorrow," he said softly, bowing before the Massah. "Thank you for showing me the correct way, Massah."  
  
"You are welcome, my child," Massah said, resting his hand on Yamato's bloody hair. Yamato closed his eyes, hiding his hatred.   
  
  
  
"Why did you not want to go to the clinic?" Ken asked as the two walked down the paved road. Yamato's voice was calm.  
  
"Massah wouldn't have allowed it. I am a warrior. Warriors must go without." Ken bit his lip.  
  
"Still, you could become infected or something."  
  
Yamato sighed and pulled the remaining threads of his shirt over his strongly chiseled body. "My entire life has been filled with this misery. It's nothing new." He gazed sadly at his scarred body, marred to the point that even his mother wouldn't love him. Fresh blood fell from him and landed on the blacktopped road.   
  
Running his hand through his long blond hair, his fingers felt the place where his skin at split, and the blood was flowing freely. Surprisingly, there was no pain. He shrugged, and put his hand to his side.   
  
Ken's calm eyes looked troubled. "I have not been at the Ashram of Mercy for long, but it does not seemed to be a place of peace."  
  
Yamato smirked. "Massah is a good man," he said reverently, his eyes hiding his true thoughts. "Why did he send you with me, anyway? Usually I get a haughty servant or selfish priest."  
  
"Massah wishes for us to be bonded. He has important work for the two of us, once we can be trusted," Ken replied. "I think we will be away from here soon."  
  
The two paused in front of a small shack. "Is this the house?" Ken asked, looking at it disapprovingly. "Why in the world would you steal from here, Yamato?" Yamato didn't reply as he slid his identification card into the slot. The gate opened, and they walked in.  
  
"Can I help you?" a pleasant looking girl asked, wiping her mop of auburn hair back.   
  
"Yes. I'm Yamato Ishida of the Ashram of Mercy. I stole some bread yesterday and have come to work in exchange for payment."  
  
The girl's frown furrowed in fear and excitement. "And who is your friend?"  
  
Ken stepped forward, kissing the girl's hand lightly. "I am Ken Ichijouji, also residing at the Ashram of Mercy. But I am of little importance to you."  
  
Her eyes sparkled. "One minute," she said breathlessly as she dashed out the back door. A few seconds later she returned with a young boy and an older man, most likely her father.   
  
"You are the man that stole my children's bread?" the craggy man asked, shaking his head slowly. "Tis a terrible thing to steal from children."  
  
"I know that, sir, and I have come to make amends." The man eyed Yamato suspiciously.  
  
"Fine. I have wood that needs cutting in the back. Jun, show him where it is," the man growled, sitting down. The girl giggled and motioned for them to follow.  
  
"Sorry Father was so angry at you," she said to Yamato with a heart-felt smile. "He doesn't like the Ashram of Mercy."  
  
"Why ever not?" Ken asked from where he stood, his cold eyes focused on Yamato as he swung the ax and the wood split neatly.   
  
"The Massah wouldn't accept my brother into the Ashram. Said he was too stupid," Jun teased as her brother walked by. His face turned red.  
  
"That wasn't very nice," Yamato commented as he stacked the wood neatly in a pile.  
  
"He's Daisuke. No one is nice to Daisuke," Jun said disdainfully.   
  
"Maybe you should learn a little respect," Yamato growled, and Ken sighed.  
  
"Yamato, leave the girl alone. Finish your work so we can get home."  
  
"I'm done," Yamato said, spitting on the ground. "Do I have any other work to do, waif?" The girl looked as if she was about to cry, and ran inside the house.  
  
"Yamato," Ken said dangerously calm. Yamato shook his head and sat down. He ran his fingers through his hair.  
  
"Where does she come off talking to her brother like that? He's a living person, just like you or her father." His penetrating look caught Ken off guard. "It's unfair of her to treat him like that."  
  
"Honestly, Yamato. You know Daisuke's history in the town."  
  
Yamato sighed. "I never hear any of the news. I'm usually locked up in the dungeon. Enlighten me."  
  
"He's a klutz," Ken said solemnly. "Ruins every social event without fail. The Massah would have him banned from this town if he could."  
  
"Sounds like this Daisuke kid and I have a lot in common," Yamato said harshly.   
  
"Don't count on it. His mother was... not of entirely human blood. Catch my drift?"  
  
Yamato pounded his fist into the ground. "So he's not perfect. Not everyone can be perfect like you. So what?"  
  
"Yamato, you are an example of perfection. So am I. Soldiers must be perfect. This town is build on perfections. He is far from belonging here."  
  
"I feel bad for him," Yamato said, his eyes smoldering. "I know what it feels like not to fit in."  
  
  
  
Later than night, Yamato and Ken climbed into their beds. The electric light flickered, and finally went out. Yamato sat up in his bed and stared out the window, his fingers tracing the stars in the sky.  
  
"What did you mean, Yamato?" Ken asked from the darkness. "Why did you say that you know what it feels like not to fit in?"  
  
Yamato turned around and sighed. Laying back down in his bed, he closed his eyes. "I have lived at the Ashram of Mercy my entire life. Others, like you, come here during their lifetimes. They are filled with happiness and excitement. I feel only an endless toil and longing to leave this horrid place." Ken remained silent. " I remember, as a child, I had friends. They would arrive home from a weekend, their faces beaming as they told me stories about what they did with their little brothers and sisters. On their birthdays, present would arrive, filled with silver or some computer gadget. You have no idea what it feels like to have nothing arrive on your birthday, because no one loves you."  
  
Yamato pulled the blankets around him tighter. "As the years went on, I felt a rift growing between me and the others. I grew cold and resentful. But while I isolated myself, my skills became greater. I could shoot and fight better than the others. My tolerance to pain was considerably larger than my friends." Images of the numerous beatings thrashed in Yamato's mind, and he quieted them. "In the end, whatever they do to me only makes me stronger. I've gone past the point of caring anymore."  
  
"I'm sorry, Yamato," Ken's bleak voice called from his bed. "I didn't mean to bring back bad memories."  
  
"I don't care," Yamato whispered. "Bad memories are the only memories I have." He rolled over and looked at the stars again. "But you know something, Ken?"  
  
"What, Yamato?"  
  
He pressed his fingers against the glass, feeling it's cold caress. "I believe that I have a family out there, somewhere. I just need to find them."  
  
  
  
  
The next morning the sun didn't shine. Ken climbed out of bed, a scowl on his face. Glancing across the room, he saw Yamato sleeping, and compassion swelled in his heart. Never before had he seen a man with more scars and cut than Yamato. The first time he had laid eyes on the rebel, it was a look of disgust.  
  
He pulled on a fresh pair of pants, his white clothing fitting him like a second skin. That was the custom of noblemen. Splashing water on his face, he laced his boots and head outside the room.  
  
Walking down the beautiful hall of the upper levels, Ken could only marvel at the harsh difference contained in the Ashram of Mercy. Upstairs, in the library and sanctuary, pictures of peace and mercy were displayed. Priests in large robes walked up and down the aisles of repenting sinners, waving branches of palm. The electronics advisor in the back kept mournful, depressing music lingering in the rooms.  
  
Ken took his seat in the sanctuary, lowering his head as was his custom. A priest rubbed a bit of some kind of chemical on Ken's forehead, uttering a blessing before waddling away.   
  
Glancing around, hundreds of mourning, weeping people cried out to their gods, gentle priests listening to their confessions. These people put so much trust in their priests, men of virtue and light.  
  
Most of the people would be horrified to see what Ken saw on this first day at the Ashram of Mercy. What Ken saw was not mercy and love, but brutality and cruelness.  
  
Massah had welcomed him, telling him he would be invaluable. Leading Ken to his room, they passed several priests violently beating a man with golden hair. The man's eyes were enraged, but didn't move as the priests beat on him.  
  
"Why are they doing that?" Ken had asked, his voice filled with horror. Massah had merely given him a bemused smile.  
  
"Yamato has always been a bit of a rebel. We find it prudent to beat it out of him. Don't worry.... they wouldn't dare kill Yamato. He's the best warrior we have." His mouth curled in a sweet smile. "I'm sure you and Yamato will get along great."  
  
Yamato was thrown to the floor at Ken's feet. Ken's face couldn't hide his confusion. "Yamato is to be your roommate," Massah said slowly. "I will watch you two with great interest."  
  
That memory was still vivid in Ken's mind. He had never been subjected to such violence back at home, in Tomichi.  
  
"Sir Ken..... why have you come to chapel today?" an old priest asked, his eyes surely blind. Ken blinked.   
  
"I have come to pray for the soul of my lost brother," he said hesitantly. "I do not have a confession to make today, Father. " The priest grinned and walked away, waving his palm branch foolishly in the air.  
  
This land was foreign to Ken. He had grown up far away, in the house of his older brother. Osamu was a rich trader, and they had lived in the lap of luxury all of Ken's life. Of his parents, he knew nothing; and they had not mattered because he had Osamu.  
  
But Ken had arrived home from a date one night only to find Osamu's bloody, dead body. The police could find no one to charge the crime to, and no one of suspicion had entered their home. Mystified, Ken had left home, hoping to rid himself of the horrid memories that lingered like ghosts around him.   
  
But the Ashram of Mercy had not help fill that void. True, Ken had been taught how to fight long ago by his brother, but training here was different.   
  
Massah had taken a liking to Ken, and never let the servants and priests beat on him or cause him to bleed, like the others. Instead, they attacked Yamato more vigorously.  
  
Yamato knew that he received Ken's share of pain, as well. That was one of the things that continued to confuse Ken about Yamato. He had been raised in ultimate cruelty and despair, and yet he thrived from it. His soul seemed to be fed by violence.  
  
And underneath all of that desensitized flesh and hard exterior, Ken was learning that Yamato had a heart.   
  
Ken had been starving, slowly, from the lack of food the hidden warriors were given. He was not used to such small amounts of food, and his stomach complained incessantly. Ken tried to ignore it, hiding the hunger away, but he couldn't hide it from Yamato.   
  
He had almost passed out yesterday from lack of food. That was why Yamato had stolen the children's bread. He had given it to Ken so that Ken would regain his strength.   
  
Perplexed, Ken bent to pray, but a servant girl approached him and tugged on his sleeve. "Massah wishes to speak to you and Yamato," she whispered, "if you are not busy."  
  
"We will come, "Ken assured her, standing up.   
  
  
  
"Yamato, get up," Ken said in clipped tones, shaking his friend. Yamato muttered something and opened his eyes. "Massah wants to talk to us."  
  
"Us?" Yamato asked in surprise, sitting up. "As in both of us? Not just me?" His eyes sparkled with morbid humor. "Perhaps you will be whipped this time, too, nobleman."  
  
"Put on your clothes," Ken said, a hint of anger in his voice. Yamato grinned, and pulled his only pair of pants, torn and dirty. Tossing his shirt, a collection of rags and odd bits of fabric, around his head, he put his arms through two of the holes and then poured water over his head. Ken's face couldn't hide his disgust. "Don't worry, pretty boy. I won't get any dirt on you," Yamato mocked, putting on his boots.   
  
"Let's go to Massah, then," Ken muttered, leaving the room. Yamato wiped the silly grin off of his face and followed.  
  
"I'm sorry if I made you angry," Yamato whispered as Ken strode through the halls. "I just thought..... maybe a joke would make everything seem... less frightening for you."  
  
"I'm not frightened!" Ken hissed, drawing himself up to full height. In truth, he was terrified. Never before had the Massah ordered their presence.... When Ken saw the horrific things that had been done to Yamato, he almost shivered. He didn't know what he would do if the Massah turned against him....  
  
The electronic doors beeped at their arrival. Sticking their identification cards into the slots, they waited until the doors unlocked and they were admitted inside the private chambers of the Massah.  
  
Ken eyed the room uneasily. The walls were covered with electronic data, scrolling by faster than the eye could follow. It was devoid of everything else. Yamato stepped forward, much at home. Obviously he had been here often.  
  
"Massah, we have arrived," he said loudly, his eyes trained on the floor. He threw an angry glare at Ken, who also lowered his eyes. A secret compartment opened, and the Massah appeared.  
  
His eyes opened in delight. "Yamato, Ken, my children, so good to see you!" he said cheerfully. "Come in, we have important matters to discuss." He pressed against the screens, and a door appeared. The Massah walked through in, Yamato following. Ken, startled, hurried to get through before it closed.  
  
They were now in a large room filled with exquisite red furniture. "Please be seated," the Massah said jovially, taking out a flask of red wine. "Something to drink?" he asked. Yamato shook his head, and Ken followed in his lead, unsure what to do. This all was so unexpected.  
  
"How long have you been at the Ashram of Mercy, Ken?" Massah asked, his cold blue eyes peering into Ken's soul. Ken held back a shutter.  
  
"Almost a year, Massah. I have not kept count."  
  
"A year." The Massah stopped, lost in thought. "That is good. The priests and servants have nothing but praises to say about you, my child. As for your partner here, well....... Yamato, why can't you follow orders? It is very frustrating."  
  
Yamato looked at the Massah, a slight smile on his face. "Sometimes in life you must rebel."  
  
Massah sighed, annoyed. "I have done all I can do for you," he said, his voice hardly more than a hiss. "I cannot take it any longer. Yamato, you are the best soldier to come through the Ashram of Mercy since I rose to power. You showed such potential.... why waste it?"  
  
"Perhaps, sir, with all of your best intentions, Yamato doesn't want to be a soldier," Ken said suddenly, and Yamato looked at him in a panic. It was the first sight of true emotion Ken had seen from Yamato in days.  
  
"Not want to be a soldier? Yamato was born to be a soldier," Massah said with a lewd smile.  
  
"It is the only life he knows, and perhaps he wishes to see what else there is in the world," Ken said deliberately. Massah sat back and scowled at the two of them.  
  
"If you two boys weren't the brightest and the best, I would have you shot immediately, just to rid us of you." His cheerful face could not longer keep it's facade. But," his lips twisted into a smile, "I have made other arrangements."  
  
"Other arrangements, sir?" Yamato said respectfully.   
  
"Indeed. A war is brewing, gentlemen. Our side needs men like you." He paused, taking a sip of his wine. "You two will be bonded and then shipped to Aliadon."  
  
"Aliadon? I do not know where that is," Yamato said, a frown on his face.  
  
"Ken will know the way," Massah said, a self-indulgent smile on his face. "There you will train with different Massah. He will break your prideful spirit, Yamato, and cleanse you of the tainted memories, Ken. Then you will be faithful to us." The two man blinked, taking all of this in.  
  
"You do not wish us to stay here?" Ken said, licking his lips. Massah scowled.  
  
"I have had enough of this impenetrable rebel and spoiled nobleman. I wash my hands clean of the entire deal." He stood. "Now, to have you bonded." He pressed a button, and a servant entered, holding a small crystal box. Inside lay two rings, black with a bolt of silver lightening down the heart of it.   
  
"Put these on," Massah instructed, placing the rings in front of them. "Once you put these on and say the oath, you will forever be bonded to the other. Never will you part from each other, until death claims the life of the other. If you try to remove the rings, it will evoke ancient magic and injure you profusely."   
  
Yamato looked at the ring, and then glanced at Ken. A smile spread on his face as he picked up the ring and slid in unto the ring finger of his left hand. Warily Ken slid his on his right hand.   
  
It felt weird. The ring seemed to be more than a ring, linking him forever with Yamato. An invisible thread was contained within the rings, holding them together, and somehow, Ken could feel the power surging through it.   
  
"Now say the oath, and get it over with," the Massah said calmly. On the table, digital words appeared.  
  
"My soul I give, a soul to gain. I pledge protection to my soul until death's song pulls me away," Yamato read quickly, flicking his blond hair over his shoulder. Ken mumbled behind him.   
  
Suddenly the magic pulled tight around them. "What's going on?" Ken whispered weakly. He could almost hear Yamato's thoughts, running like a waterfall, muffling everything out.  
  
"You have been bonded. His soul is now yours and your soul is his. You are joined," the Massah said impatiently.   
  
"You mean he is linked telepathically to my mind?" Yamato said, his eyebrows arched. He sounded unhappy.   
  
"Perhaps. The bond grows stronger as the two of you grow closer," Massah said thoughtfully. "I never knew a pair that could read each other's minds, but it's possible. If the two mind are strong enough." He sighed, settling back. A childish smile crossed his face.  
  
"Good-bye, my faithful children. I pray you have a safe journey, and the gods bring you home soon," Massah said, kissing the tops of their heads. "Leave in the peace of the Creator, children."  
  
Yamato and Ken stood, and left the room, magic sizzling around them.  
  
  
  
Once they had left, the Massah collapsed. He had thought he would never get rid of those two trouble-making brats. Hopefully the Massah in Aliadon would be able to fix them.  
  
His eyes were troubled as he thought about what Yamato had asked only minutes before. He had thought it in his best interest to bond the two of them together. That way they would keep each other in check, but their strong bond frightened him. Their bond should not be that strong, not in the beginning. They shouldn't have even been able to feel it.  
  
He had made such careful plans to keep the two from becoming friends. He allowed Ken to remain a rich, spoiled prince, making Yamato take Ken's share of punishment as well. The two of the them had nothing in common. They should have hated each other. Why then did they have such a strong bond?   
  
He sighed, resting his head on his ring-infested hands. His blue hair fell forward over his eyes, and he brushed it away. At least they were finally gone.   
  
  
  



	2. Darkness of Night

Bond of the Soulby Child of the Faeries  
  
  
  
Yamato's feet hit the floor with finality, ringing out through the silent walls of the Ashram. At his side Ken treaded silently, a ghostly shadow hiding his emotions. "Glad to be out of here?" Yamato asked, a ghastly smile upon his face. Ken's face remained irresolute, but Yamato could feel through the bond that his feelings were mixed.  
  
Entering their tiny room, Ken proceeded to fold all of his clothing up and put them into a small bag very neatly. With each simple movement, his anger and dread grew in him. Why had they been sent away? What would this new Massah be like? Deep in his heart, he feared that this Massah would not favor him over Yamato, that in this new Massah's eyes they would be equals.  
  
They were not equals. Ken had been born of the royal line in Tomichi, raised as nobility. Yamato was an orphan, abandoned and forlorn. His only family was this cruel Massah, who's eyes glinted with malicious thoughts and swirled with evil. They would never be equals in Ken's eyes.  
  
Scorn filled his face and he turned sharply away from Yamato, hiding his shame. Yamato sat up and gazed at Ken's back mournfully for a moment.   
  
"Do not hate me for my past," he murmured through the bond, his thoughts infiltrating Ken's mind. "Hate me for my superiority over you."  
  
Ken's face blushed red and he pulled the strings on his bag tightly, causing one to snap. An angry look crossed his face. "Leave me alone."  
  
"As you wish," the man whispered with quiet relish, and disappeared out the door.  
  
  
  
  
Taking a deep breath, Yamato walked the halls he had known for so long. Hours passed in what seemed like seconds. He had thought this day would never come, that Massah would keep him tied in his iron chains until his hair was grey and he no longer could move. But suddenly, unexpectedly, Massah had cut the chains and given Yamato the one thing his soul truly desired- freedom.  
  
Fading, flickering memories appeared out of the cold walls, wrapping Yamato in his cold past. Images sad and sweet pressed against his flesh, crying out to him, begging him to never forget.  
  
A bittersweet smile crossed his face as he climbed the rickety staircase that lead to the bell tower. As a child, he had often crept up these very stairs, hoping just for a moment to view the beauty of the world, an assurance that humanity wasn't all bad.  
  
Taking a deep breath, he stepped onto the bell tower, looking down to the town below. People scurried from the Ashram, ready to eat their dinners and talk quietly with the family members. Each one was wrapped in their own gloriously simple thoughts, so black and white against the canvas of life.   
  
The dying sun lend it's glorious hues unto the land, casting everything in gold and rose-colored. Yamato drank it all in, letting the light shine it's holy purity on his cursed soul.   
  
And for the first time in his life, he felt beautiful. He knew his reflection, his twisted face and scarred hands. But there was something about the light, it's gentle fire laying across his face in peace, that changed his weary soul. He was renewed, restored..... and filled with a divine power.  
  
His laughter filled the air, and at first it startled him. He hadn't laughed in years. But the light danced in his eyes, and he could no longer hold it back. His laugher, pure and unadulterated, rang off the top of the Ashram of Mercy and down unto the people below.   
  
So rare was a moment of joy in the Ashram of Mercy that it almost brought tears to his eyes.  
  
And in his heart, he knew that nothing would be the same again.  
  
  
  
Walking back down the stairs, he ran into Ken, who's face was filled with concern. "Where have you been?" he asked sternly, his eyes dark. "I have been looking everywhere for you."  
  
Yamato gave him a patient smile. "I was attending to some business." He looked at Ken's hands, where his bag of belongings were held. "Are we to leave now?"  
  
Ken nodded. "The sooner the better. The sun will be setting soon."  
  
Yamato smiled, and brushed back his unruly hair. "Let's leave then."  
  
"Don't you need your stuff?" Ken asked, confusion spelled across his face.   
  
"What do you think I own? A bag of clothing, fine and fancy as yours? I'm just an orphaned, without love." His eyes stared in earnest at Ken for a moment, then looked away. "The sooner we get away from here, the better."  
  
Ken turned brusquely, and headed to the front doors. Yamato lagged behind, sudden apprehension filled his soul. He had never been without a home before. Always in the past he could return to the Ashram of Mercy.   
  
"Are you coming?" Ken asked softly, and Yamato found that he couldn't move. He tried, but so invisible threads held him back, their cruel claws ensnared in his flesh, unwilling to let their prey go.  
  
"So afraid," he murmured wearily into Ken's mind, his knees giving away. His arms shuddered, and suddenly he felt inferior. The golden light that had entered his soul had left, leaving only an empty, fearful hole. He was a no one from no one. No one cared about him.   
  
Ken moved to his side, silent. They looked at each other for a moment, Yamato's heart thumping wildly in his frame. He wanted desperately to be away from this place. He felt so cold and scared.  
  
"The Massah no longer controls your fate," Ken said softly, sitting beside his friend. "Now it's time for you to spread your wings and fly."  
  
Yamato blinked, feeling darkness swirling around him, trying to pull him back. "But...... the Massah is the only father I ever had," he muttered miserably under his breath. Ken caught his face roughly.  
  
"What kind of father beats his child? Is that your idea of love and respect?" His eyes glittered with hidden knowledge. "You are more foolish than I though, Yamato. You are the prisoner who has been free but doesn't wish to leave his cell for the fear of what the world holds. I never know you would fear something so stupid."  
  
He rose again, extending his hand. A strange, genuine form of kindness filled his eyes. "Let us leave this torment together." Yamato blinked, and raised weary eyes to the stained glass windows above. Finally he took Ken's hand and rose.  
  
Together, they walked out of the Ashram of Mercy, and Yamato gritted his teeth, not glancing back. This was the part of his life that he wanted to forget.  
  
A new life was starting.  
  
  
  
His boots scraped along the rough road, his tongue lagging out of his mouth, testing the air. Overhead the blue moon shone through the clouds, feeding his hunger.  
  
He looked at his majestic hands in wonderment. Reddish brown fur ran the entire length of his body, surrounding him in a gorgeous coat of magic. The moon wavering, and he grinned, licking his wolfish lips.  
  
"Child of the Devil," he whispered, savoring the words as they rolled off  
his tongue. He clenched his fist, feeling the muscles in his arm tighten. "I will show Massah that we children of the Devil can rival even his perfect soldiers." His jaw was taunt as he looked down at the animal he had just killed, it's blood staining his hands. He stared at the pitiful corpse without compassion, for it's death had been in his own hands. His magic had called him to it.   
  
"Merciless Creator, turning me into this," he said venomously. "If anyone ever found out..... They would kill me. Without hesitation." He thought about the men and women back in the village, of his own sister and father. What would they do when they found out that he was a werewolf? He'd be even more of an outcast than he was now.  
  
He raised his head in the wind, his mane of hair flowing in the slight breeze. The smell of magic met his nose, and his green eyes glowed with angry pleasure.   
  
"The magic calls," he whispered softly, licking his lips in a dangerously calm way. "The hunt begins."  
  
  
  
"We should set up camp soon," Ken muttered, glancing at the bright blue moon. "It doesn't feel safe out here in the open." His eyes swept over the grassy plains, searching for something. Yamato rolled his eyes.  
  
"Magic's out tonight," he muttered to himself as he sat down on the grass. "A werewolf's moon shines in the sky." A smile crossed his face. "Don't worry, Ken-chan. I won't let anything hurt you. We would hate to have your pretty face scarred, now wouldn't we?"  
  
Ken scowled, dark fire in his eyes. "I can protect myself, Yamato. "There had been such a transformation from the man Ken had seen sitting on the steps, unable to leave the prison that had held him so long. He was sick and tired of Yamato treating him like a child, foolish and unable to anything.  
  
Yamato's smile never ceased as he stretched his large body out and gazed up at the stars. "I'll watch your back."  
  
Ken turned, his eyes glowering, but deep inside of his heart, he was glad that Yamato was there. It would have been much more frightening to be in this grassy sea alone.  
  
"Why do you not want to go this way?" Yamato asked from where he lay on the grass. Ken's eyes couldn't hide his surprise.  
  
"What do you mean?"  
  
"I can feel it here," he said simple, pointing to his chest. "You don't want to go to Aliadon. Why?"  
  
"It must be the bond," Ken deduced calmly. "I'm sorry my thoughts are breaking through the veil between us. I'll try and keep them to myself."  
  
Yamato sighed. "You didn't answer the question."  
  
"There's no way of getting around you, is there?" Ken challenged with a sort of bitter half-laugh. "On the other side of Aliadon lies the city of Tomichi. It's where I grew up, and I have no desire to go anywhere near it ever again."   
  
"Why not?" Yamato asked, sitting up. Ken gave him a dark look and turned away.   
  
  
  
Magic swirled out of the dark plains, and his eyes gleamed jade green as he crept closer to the camp. There was two people there, he could tell. Two people with great magic.   
  
His nostrils flared gracefully as his long body twisted through the grass. A smile played across his lips as he thought about attacking the two of them without a moment's notice. What chaos would ensue.  
  
His stomach twisted sickeningly, and for a moment he paused, frozen. The reality of his situation hit him, pounding against his temples horrendously. "I truly am a child of the Devil," he whispered heart-wrenchingly to himself. "No child of the Creator could be so twisted and cruel." His fangs tore against the inside flesh of his mouth.  
  
Dark magic fueled his soul, whispers urging him towards the camp where magic flowed like a river back and forth. He pulled off his boots, leaving them aside as he crouched on all fours, his eyes grim with resolution.  
  
"It is my Fate, let every other creature under Heaven be warned," he mouthed, his words vanishing into the wind.  
  
  
  
  
Yamato licked his lips. "Do you have a family?" he asked Ken slowly. Ken sat down and turned towards him.  
  
"I don't know," he answered after a small pause. "I must have a mother and father somewhere, I'm sure, but they're of little use to me. I never knew them."  
  
"I never knew my parents either. No one did." Yamato's blue eyes turned sober as he stared at the fire Ken had started.  
  
"I had a brother, though. He took care of me. We were pretty close," Ken said, thinking through the years. "I lived in his house, in Tomichi. That's why I don't want to return there."  
  
"Did you have a fight or something?" Yamato asked quickly.  
  
"Or something," was Ken's only answer. Yamato could sense that there was something behind his response, but didn't want to push. If Ken truly trusted him, someday he would tell Yamato.  
  
He wasn't so sure he trusted Ken yet. When he looked his companion in the eyes, he saw a dim hopelessness and an angry ocean of tears. Massah had always held Ken on a pedestal, his true chivalry shining through the dark, dismal halls of the Ashram of Mercy. Yet Yamato wasn't convinced that Ken was so brave, or strong, or noble. He seemed scared and confused.  
  
His eyes fell on Ken, who sat several feet from him. His eyes were looking out into the plains, lost in the song the wind chanted as it danced past their ears.  
  
"You okay?" Yamato asked softly, rubbing his long blond hair. Ken didn't move, but the magic within them stirred uneasily, like a pot about to boil over.  
  
"I'm just thinking," he murmured. Yamato sat up.  
  
"What about?"  
  
Ken gave him a snort of disdain. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't care. You never had a family. You wouldn't understand."  
  
White pain flashed in Yamato's eyes, but he tried to hide it. "Try me."  
  
"I'd rather not," Ken said evenly, and Yamato could swear angry red sparks exploded in Ken's eyes. The air tightened around them as they tested each other, seeing which one would snap first. Eyes glowering, they looked into each other's eyes, seeing the very depths of their angry souls.   
  
"Life's not fair," Yamato said softly, falling back down to the ground. Ken took a deep breath, and the words caught in his throat.   
  
  
  
The fire danced, reflecting in his eyes. They were having a fight, he could tell from where he was crouched in the grass. The magic they contained flared up, his hunger nearly overtaking him.  
  
"Wait for the right moment," the wind whispered in his ear, tickling him delightfully. A smile crept unto his face.   
  
He gritted his teeth, sharp fangs grinding together in a glorious symphony of gore. His eyes, bloodshot and shining, watched the blond and the blue-haired boy converse with anticipation. He could hardly wait any longer.  
  
"I'm going to take a walk," the blue-haired one said, rising gently to his feet. "I can't sleep. The wind's bothering me."  
  
The blond nodded, and rolled over. His friend stared at him for a moment, and the werewolf noted a sense of sadness in his remorseful stare.  
  
"Now," the wind whispered in his ear, and he crouched low, his lips curled with pleasure. The blue-haired boy stood at the edge of camp, wistful, and started into the grass.  
  
"Ken!" the blond called out quickly, and the werewolf's head rose in surprise. Fury pounded in his head as the thrill of the hunt ran through his veins.  
  
"What, Yamato?" the blue-haired boy asked, turning around. The blond rose, a piercing look drifting over the grass and finally resting on the werewolf's wild eyes.  
  
"Come here," he whispered, and Ken returned to his side. Yamato looked the werewolf in the eyes. "Don't hurt him. It's me you want."  
  
The werewolf's eyes never ceased to glimmer in the darkness. He lashed his tail angrily, the grass swishing behind him.   
  
"I told you to let him go," the blond demanded roughly, pushing his friend aside and stepping towards the werewolf. "Don't test me." His eyes were dark with rage, and the werewolf took a deep breath.  
  
"Very well," he whispered regally, sitting up. His hands found the golden pendant that hung from his neck, and he murmured a few words of ancient magic. The blue-haired boy blinked wearily for a few seconds before tumbling head first into the ground.  
  
"Why are you here?" Yamato demanded, his hands clenched into fists. The werewolf sat back on it's hind legs and smiled.  
  
"Magic is outlawed in Aliadon," the werewolf said in a raspy voice.  
  
"How do you know where we are going?" Yamato asked unkindly. The werewolf smiled again.  
  
"The wind whispers to me." He growled, emitting a chilling howl to the blue moon overhead. "I am sorry that I have to do this, Yamato. But my master orders it. The wind guided me to you."  
  
Yamato's blue eyes were dilated, his mind elsewhere. "Do not hurt my companion, Ken. Your master wishes you only to destroy the magic. He has no magic."  
  
"I cannot promise that," the werewolf said with a sly smile. Yamato stepped forward.  
  
"Are you threatening him? If you hurt my friend, I will hunt you down and kill you, hanging your remains in the middle of your hometown."  
  
"Not if you're dead," the werewolf hissed, baring his teeth viciously. Yamato laughed, and the werewolf lunged, caught in the magic of the moon.  
  
  
  
He looked down at his bloody hands in dismay. How many times had he killed for the sake of his master? He had already lost count.  
  
Gazing down at the bloody remains of Yamato, his heart stirred, and fear filled his heart. "You're in trouble," the wind whispered maliciously in his ear, taunting him. "He will kill you someday."  
  
Rising to his feet, Daisuke's heart felt heavy. He had liked Yamato, especially after the tongue-lashing Yamato had given his sister. It had felt good to have someone stand up for you. "I will not harm your friend," he whispered, his mouth filled with the unsavory taste of bile and blood. Already the blue moon, with it's mysteriously hypnotic powers over him, had faded into the abyss of night. Only the stars shined, their beautiful light harsh against his tainted soul.  
  
"Someday, I will fight for what is right, alongside your friend," Daisuke promised Yamato solemnly. "But I'm not strong enough right now."  
  
Turning on his heel, he fled from the blood, heading back to town. It would take him a couple of hours running on top speed, but the night was young and fresh blood pounded through his body.  
  
Glancing backwards, he caught sight of the blue-haired boy, and felt a slight twinge of regret. Then he bound off into the night, the wind hurling insults in his ears as the stars looked down in anger.   
  
  
  
  
Ken's eyes fluttered open, and he rubbed his head. Already it was near midday, for the sun was overhead. "Wh--what happened?" he muttered, sitting up. All of last night seemed like a dream. He had been angry at Yamato, and then that thing showed up...  
  
"Yamato?" Ken called, rising to his feet. His clean clothing had grass-stains and dirt on them. "Yamato, this isn't funny," he yelled again, his voice stern.   
  
A bird called across the plain, and then silence ensued. Ken's heart beat faster as he stared wide-eyed around him, seeing no sign of anyone.  
  
"He'll be back," Ken promised himself, closing his eyes. "He wouldn't just leave me." Yet in his heart, there was a strange feeling of dread. Where Yamato's strong personality and sharp emotions had once filled him, now there was only slack. Devoid of anything.  
  
Ken huddled down on his knees, muttering something in his native tongue. A raven glided in the sky, landing in front of him. Opening his eyes, he glared at the ebony crow. The bird squawked at him angrily, and Ken rose, his foot connecting with the bird. It gave him a cold glare and settled on the ground a few feet away from Ken, never moving it's eyes from his face.  
  
"Go away," Ken said darkly. Any minute now Yamato would return, and they could resume their journey. He would be back soon.   
  
The raven seemed to grin at him, like he knew something that Ken didn't. His body shook as he remembered the old folk tales of his homeland, about the raven being an embodiment of evil and often it visited the dead. But Osamu had kept a raven as a pet.  
  
Ken rose to his feet, and the raven hopped through the grass. After a moment's hesitation, Ken followed.  
  
The grass opened up to a spot where the grass was crushed and covered in a film of water. Brushing by a few blade of grass, he was dismayed to find that it wasn't water on the grass, but blood.  
  
Stumbling into the clearing, he froze, his heart jumping into his throat. He tried to move, to run away, but his muscles couldn't. His eyes stared at Yamato in horror.  
  
"No......" he whispered, his knees failing him. He fell to the ground, burying his face into the grass. "Not again......not again...."  
  
Images filled his mind, ransoming his coherent thoughts.  
  
  
  
He stuck his identification card into the slot, whistling a merry tune as the gate swung open, allowing him into his house.  
  
Osamu didn't open the door, and he had to enter the house through an open window near the back. Slipping into the dining room, he accidentally knocked over a priceless crystal vase. "Osamu will have my head," he muttered, looking at the shards of crystal carefully. Bending down, he picked a piece up and accidentally cut himself. "Ouch."  
  
A crimson teardrop appeared on his finger, and he cursed lightly. "Osamu, I need a bandage!" he called through the regal house. "Hurry, before I bleed onto your precious carpet!"  
  
Osamu didn't come, and another drop of blood fell from his finger. "Osamu, where are you?" he demanded, striding into his brother's study. "I called and-"  
  
The distinct pungency of blood met his nose, and his throat constricted. Never before had he seen such an execution. Blood covered the room in a crimson wave. His brother's raven cried pitifully in the corner.  
  
"Osamu!" Ken cried, running to his brother's side. "Osamu, Osamu." He couldn't breath.  
  
The blood from Osamu didn't even show on Ken's red clothing. He grabbed hold of Osamu's wrist, trying to wake him.  
  
"Osamu!" he yelled, horror rising in his body. "You can't leave me! You can't!"  
  
For a brief moment, Osamu's eyes flickered open. Ken dug his fingernails into Osamu's skin. "Osamu!"  
  
His brother fought for consciousness. "Mi culpa," he whispered wearily. My sin.  
  
  
  
  
Osamu's face blurred, and instead Ken could see Yamato's scarred and tortured face. Osamu. Yamato. Osamu. Yamato.  
  
"Don't leave me!" Ken cried bitterly, raising his head from the grass. "I've already lost my brother, I couldn't live if I lost my best friend."  
  
Yamato's body didn't move. "You have to live," Ken cried out bitterly, his hands clenched into fists. "You promised to watch my back," he whispered in anguish. "I should have been watching yours."  
  
  
  
  



	3. Whisperer of the Wind

Bond of the Soulby Child of the Faeries  
  
  
Blind pain drove through Ken's body, wracking him. Sweat trickled down his face, obscuring his vision. Lack of water made his body weak and frail, Yamato's weight almost unbearable on his back.  
  
"I'm sorry," Ken whispered over and over again, grunting as he treaded through the thick grass. His eyes shimmered with shame, even though Yamato couldn't hear him. "I've never had a friend before."  
  
Even to his own ears, those words sounded absurd, and yet true. "Osamu took care of me.... but I never learned how to interact with people well. I locked myself in my room with my computers, manipulating lives from my isolated look-out."  
  
He sat down, the sun beating on his face. Gazing sorrowfully at Yamato's face, Ken felt tears rise to his eyes. "Even with you, I pushed you away, because I was afraid of what you might think of me."  
  
Yamato's lifeless face didn't change, and Ken fell to his knees, grasping the edge of Yamato's bloodied shirt. "Is this my fault? Am I cursed to have everyone near me killed?" He wiped an angry tear from his eye, not allowing it to fall. A true soldier didn't cry.  
  
"You can't be dead, can you?" he whispered sorrowfully, his hand still clenched against the rough fabric.  
  
Dead. How hollow that sounded inside Ken's heart. Surreal. The void of color and emotion frightened Ken, and he recoiled. A warm wind rushed across his face, and he slid his hands over his eyes, blocking the world out.  
  
The wind danced around him, and suddenly the prairie was alive and dripping with magic. "Come to me," the wind whispered sweetly in Ken's ear. The air crackled with energy.  
  
"Who's there?" he demanded wildly, raising his eyes. The air was twinged with the gentle, mocking laughter of the wind.  
  
"I am," she taunted, her lovely voice teasing his very soul.   
  
"Who are you?" Ken called out again, rising slowly. His hand slid from Yamato's shirt, and he fell aside.  
  
"I am who I am, nothing more and nothing less," the wind whispered, it's gentle touch caressing the side of his face. "I have the answers you seek."  
  
"The answers to what?" Ken demanded, an unfamiliar glint of anger in his eye. His magic shifted in the back of his mind, the delicate sound of a sword singing through the air.  
  
"I can heal your friend," she whispered, a sweet, alluring sound in her voice. "And I can help you discover the truth behind your brother's death."  
  
"What truth?" Ken said, his mind flickering with pictures of the past.  
  
"The truth that only I know. Come to me," the wind murmured again, and for a moment Ken could make out the very faint shape of a woman before him.  
  
"Where are you? How can I find you?" he said desperately, glancing at his fallen friend. "Surely, you must save my best friend. He must not die."  
  
"I will do as I can, when you come," the wind chimed softly. Ken's heart filled with hope. "Come into my lair and dine with me."  
  
The wind whipped around him quickly, and just as suddenly it died. The prairie was filled with an unnatural calm. Not even the grass rippled under the dire sun.  
  
And before Ken stood a stately mansion, it's walls climbing into the heavens. An impressive marble stair case lead to the huge front door, exquisitely carved flowers in the cherry colored wood.  
  
Ken lifted Yamato, happiness flooded his heart. He knew not who this was, but she could help him. He knew it.  
  
He bounded up the stairs, and for a moment he hesitated at the door. The wind swirled around him once more, murmuring something in his native tongue. "Fools rush in where angels fear to tread."  
  
Impulsively, Ken grasped the handle and entered the huge house.  
  
  
  
Directly in front of him was a large fountain, lush flowers growing up towards the heavens. The walls were lined with pictures of angelic beings, and the faintest strains of music rang through the halls.  
  
"Hello?" Ken murmured, afraid to disturb the silence that resounded so thoroughly throughout the house.  
  
"You, my sweet Ken, are in very grave danger," a voice purred gently as a shape emerged from the shadows. Ken jumped, startled, and whirled towards the voice.  
  
A girl emerged from the darkness, a gentle calm reflecting from her brown eyes. Graceful hair the color of the earth tumbled down to her shoulders, and in her hands she held a small blue flame of light. With a simple breath the fire dissipated, and she gave him a chilling smile.  
  
"Welcome to my humble home," she whispered, her eyes growing brightly as she stepped closer towards the two warriors. "I am known in these lands as the sorceress Mimi."  
  
"Mimi?" Ken muttered, a flash of fear crossing his face. "The Whisperer of the Winds." Mimi laughed quietly, the sound of chimes in the wind.  
  
"My reputation precedes me," she said with a smirk. "But I am the only one that can help your friend."   
  
"What will you do to him?" Ken asked nervously, licking his lips. Mimi gave him another of her cryptic smiles.   
  
"Don't worry, Ken. I won't kill him, "she cooed, resting her cold hand on his shoulder. "He's already dead."  
  
Pain crossed Ken's face, and he turned away. Mimi bent down and pulled Yamato so he was facing up. "You're in big trouble, being paired to this madman," Mimi murmured softly. "I fear for you." Pulling a vial of something out of her blue robe, she breathed a incantation into the air, and Yamato floated, glimmering brightly. She walked away, Yamato trailing in the air behind her.  
  
  
  
"How long it has been since I last saw you, Yamato," she muttered to herself safely inside her private quarters. "Fine mess you got yourself into." Despite her show of bravado, inside her heart was the terrifying truth that she might not be able to bring him back.   
  
"Foolish, foolish boy," she muttered, staring at the cold flesh of a man she had known once upon a dream. "Do you remember me, Yama? Or has Massah robbed even your memories from you?" A desperate tear fell from her eye, and she wiped it away.   
  
She opened his shirt with a twitch of her finger, the frail rags falling limply at his side. Her face turned white as her eyes traveled through the torn flesh and dried blood. "My old friend...." she breathed, her hair falling forward over his twisted face.  
  
Gently she called her magic to her, feeling the cool cleansing spiral to her fingers, surrounding her in a backlash of blue light.   
  
Bringing her fingers to his head, sparks snapped as her magic wove through his own. Clenching her teeth, she tried to ignore the pain as she worked her way into his mind.  
  
"Yamato?" she whispered, using every ounce of magic she had to maintain the contact. "Can you hear me?"  
  
On Yamato's side only his magic was alive, a festering storm raining harshly against the minor shields that Mimi had placed. Her mind screamed in agony as white light engulfed her blue light, thrusting her away from Yamato in a whirlwind of magic.  
  
"You always were stronger than me," she murmured ruefully, resting against the side of her bed. "I fear I cannot help you now."  
  
She turned away, opening a hidden drawer in the wall. Removing a letter, she closed the drawer again and sat at his side. "Do you even remember me?" she wondered out loud, brushing her hand through his golden hair. "We were best friends long ago.... so long that you mind have forgotten. I have not. "She fingered the letter, hesitating. Finally she opened the old letter, a small smile on her face. Her eyes skimmed through the lines that she knew so well. "You were the shining knight of honor... and I the fair lady of truth. So long ago...." She gave him a bitter smile that he didn't return. "We were only children then, foolish and carefree. So different than we are now. I am a bitter woman, cursed and despised. And you, dear Yamato, are dead. Fate is often cruel and ill-fitting of our dispositions."  
  
She rose, calling a flask of cool brandy to wash over Yamato's face. "I will try again tomorrow," she promised, bowing low beside his face. "Never give up. I know you're still on the other side, fighting."  
  
  
  
"Ken?" she spoke softly, and the warrior jumped, his magic immediately at his side. She scowled and threw him an angry glare. "Don't threaten me with your useless magic, sir, or I will show you the extent of my power."  
  
"How is he?" Ken asked, warily walking towards her. Mimi sighed and brushed her brown hair back from her face.  
  
"I will try again tomorrow. My power is too drained to try again tonight." She smoothed the embroidered edges of her dress nervously, and then looked at Ken sadly. "He is too powerful for me."  
  
Ken felt like he had suddenly been plunged under icy water. His lungs burned with fear. If Yamato was dead and could not be revived.... he would have to continue on alone.  
  
"You must be hungry," Mimi said softly, drawing her hands together. A blue flame appeared. "I will dine with you." She turned and walked down a darkened hallway, Ken following in hesitation.  
  
The walls crept closer and closer as they walked, and the ceiling rose, giving the house a magnificent impression of a cathedral or a building of ancient times. The angels that lined the walls appeared almost lifelike, their cold eyes staring at Ken with superiority."It's all an illusion," Mimi said with a soft smile. Ken tried to say something but the words stuck in his throat.  
  
Finally she pushed a gilded door open, allowing him into a grand room illuminated by thousands of red and gold candles, each flame flickering delicately in a huge circle. A table was prepared at the very center of the room, and Mimi gestured for him to seat himself. Taking a glass of a wine the color of pure crystal, she sighed and sank into a velvety chair.  
  
"Why do you not eat?" she asked coldly, her eyes flickering mysteriously in the candlelight.  
  
"I'm sorry, my good lady, but this all reminds me of some sacrificial room used to slaughter animals, and it has set my stomach on edge." He looked anywhere but where she sat, and her laughter rang out harshly.  
  
"Maybe it is a sacrificial room," she mused softly. "A room to sacrifice my soul." Turning her eyes towards Ken, she took another sip of wine and leered at him. "What troubles your heart, Ken?"  
  
"In honesty, sorceress, it is you that troubles me most. I fear you will try and ensnare me and my friend in one of your lecherous webs."  
  
"Lecherous webs?" she questioned coldly. "Is that what you think I am?" Mimi asked, cold rage rising in her eyes, banishing her calm and collected look. "That I would do such a thing to a man like Yamato? You are a fool."  
  
"I wish to know answers. You promised to tell me the truth behind my brother's death," Ken said suddenly, and Mimi relaxed back in her chair.  
  
"Indeed, I did make that promise." Setting her glass aside, she leaned forward, resting her hands lightly on the table. "Our lands are ruled by Massah, men of honesty and virtue. Each town has a Massah that they look to for guidance, and every few months there is a council of the Massahs to discuss regulations and new laws. More recently, there has been talk of outlawing magic." She rubbed her hands nervously, a glint of magic reflecting in her eyes. Ken could feel a surge of new magic in the air, a clean, clear form of energy that dashed from her eyes.  
  
"People like me would be killed. I cannot live without the magic I harbor inside my frame, knitted inside me at birth. It is the air that I breath, the flame of my soul. Others would be affected, like you. Your bond, and the magic that you have from it, would disappear. Almost everyone would be affected, from schoolchildren to the soldiers that are trained back where you came from." Her eyes could not longer hold back her cold fear. "Our world as we know it would be destroyed."  
  
"Why would they do such a thing?" Ken asked, his mind spinning.  
  
"There are some, like your past Massah, at the Ashram of Mercy, who believe that impenetrable soldiers are the key, and our survival lies on their soldiers. Others wish to cast our fate in with technology and the huge cyber-arena. Others fear creatures of magic, as you do."  
  
"But what does all this have to do with my brother?" Ken's eyes were pinned on her.  
  
"There is a secret group of the Massah that are breaking away, taking Fate into their own hands. They know what they wish the future to be, and will go to any length to see that it becomes all that they dream. Your brother got caught up with them. Their lust and grasp of power caught his greedy soul."  
  
"No!" Ken shouted, rising to his feet. "I will not have you slaughter my brother's good name!! He was an honest man, of good integrity!" His eyes were filled with rage.  
  
"No," Mimi whispered, an unsettling calm in her eyes. "You are wrong."  
  
Ken approached her, his eyes filled with vehemence and betrayal. "You lie!" He rose his hand to strike her.  
  
Mimi stood up, drawing her magic. Ken hit the wall, his head connecting squarely. One of her knees connected with his stomach, leaning against him with her full weight. She drew a knife out of the air, and pressed it against his chest. "If you ever accuse me of such things again, I will kill you," she seethed, pressing the knife harder against his chest. "And I will not bring you back."  
  
Turning, she walked away, wrapping Ken in silence.  
  
  
  
Mimi looked out her balcony at the stars, glittering like diamonds far above. She sighed, and glanced at Yamato again, her melancholy complete. Drawing her magic into her hands, she pulled the window shut and collapsed into her bed.  
  
In the solemn silence of night, forgotten memories crept into her night unbidden. She remember standing in the rain, crying as the glorious angel tears fell unto her head. Her mother would be so disappointed that she had gotten her dress wet. Huge tears rolled down her face.  
  
And suddenly he was there, a timid smile on his face. "You're getting all wet," he muttered softly, slipping his coat off and wrapping it over her head.   
  
"You can't do that!" Mimi remembered saying. "Massah will be angry at you."  
  
"What's a little more pain?" Yamato had whispered, looking away. Harsh venerability shone through his eight-year old eyes.  
  
"I'm sorry," Mimi whispered, looking back at the now grotesquely scared and beaten Yamato. "If only I could have helped you.... but I didn't know how."  
  
He had sat alone at dinner the next day at school, as usual. The others from the Ashram of Mercy were already learning that he was trouble, and to stay away if you wanted to be in good graces. As the daughter of a prominent merchant, Mimi was expected to follow their example.  
  
Watching the other children scorning and teasing the boy, Mimi felt deep indignation in her heart. She held her head high as she approached Yamato. He turned away, muttering that she didn't have to do this.  
  
A small smile flickered across her face as she sat beside him. Giving him a piece of her good, she struck up a conversation, telling him about this beautiful butterfly that she had seen walking to school that day. A bemused smile was on his face the whole time through, and when she had finished, he had whispered, "Someday you will be a beautiful butterfly, and you will soar above all of this, believe me."  
  
Mimi had laughed, and as she stood, he caught hold of her sleeve and thanked her.   
  
It was then the dream ended.   
  
The next day he was locked away in the dungeon with the rats for stealing a bit of bread from a merchant. They hadn't found the bread, but given Yamato's past, they found it prudent to lock him away anyways.  
  
When he was released, he didn't come to school. Risking it all, Mimi had ventured to the lower levels while her parents repented to the priests. There she was faced with the first fact that life was not fair.  
  
Mimi remembered the large sore wounds and the haggard fear than was contained in his eyes. Her childish heart cried out in sincere sorrow for this boy. Taking his hand into hers, she was surprised to feel a pull in the back of her mind, a gentle tug of power and light. Murmuring words that she didn't understand, she called her magic for the first time, and watched in horrific fascination as her blue light melted into Yamato's bloodied flesh, restoring him.  
  
That was the first time she had called her magic, dipped into the ethereal pool of darkness and light, love and hatred. For days afterwards she had longed to call the magic back into her, to reclaim it as her own.   
  
But never again did the magic flow as it had the first time with Yamato. Never did the magic change from cold blue light into golden radiance, filling her soul with the angel's song.  
  
She had never gotten a chance to even speak again to Yamato. Days after the discovery of her gift, she was taken from her family, striped of her title, and left for a servant in a far away land. The people had thought her no better than a common witch, a woman without morals or humanity.  
  
Indeed, immortality had a price. It killed your soul.  
  
The sorceress sighed, dousing the flames with a flick of her hand. She rested her head on the pillows, and her mind drifted to the other man that was somewhere in her house. Ken, the brother of Osamu.   
  
Everything that she had seen pointed to the conclusion that she had already formed before his arrival. Unless she could bring Yamato back, he was a ticking time bomb, ready to go off at any second. He was a man to be feared, no doubt, for his brother had trained him well.  
  
It would be enticing to see which side he chose to be on, when all came into the light. Would Yamato be able to turn him to the light, to the continuity of life, or would he follow the path of his brother, the path of hatred, and bring their own demise?  
  
Mimi prayed in her soul that Yamato would bring him to understanding... but if need be, she would be willing to fight against Ken to stop what was foretold....even if it meant the death of others.  
  
  
  
  
The caged birds inside the mansion sand out sweetly, awakening Ken from his slumber. He rubbed his eyes, rising to his feet. He thrust his hands into his pockets, trying to keep away the biting cold that clung to the dining room where he had fallen asleep in fear the night before.  
  
His mind lingered back to what he had learned the night before, and shook his head. This sorceress, Mimi, was a liar. Never had he heard such ridiculous accusations before.   
  
"Osamu would never had done something like that. He was honest and pure," Ken tried to reassure himself, but doubt clouded his mind. The magic of his soul wouldn't let him go.   
  
Curses emitted from his mouth, mingling with the bird song. Pulling back the sleeve of his white shirt, Ken's flesh went cold when he looked at the black design tattooed into his skin.  
  
It was a rose, it's petals in full blown. "Every rose has it's thorns, as hidden as they may seem," Osamu had said while Ken screamed against the pain. "This will be your passport into the future. Never forget this gift I give you, Ken. Someday you will thank me for this."  
  
His mind had screamed no, that this was wrong, but he had been young and helpless.   
  
"No." His eyes rang out with fitful rage, his magic slicing through the air in angry arcs.  
  
His hand slid and covered the arm easily, hiding the wretched rose that spelled death. It was the kiss of the devil.  
  
"No one will ever know. Not Mimi or the others... not even Yamato," he breathed in quiet menace. "I will not let them know that I have been betrayed."  
  
He then collapsed, gasping sobs rocking his body in the silence of the monstrous room.  
  
  
  
  
Mimi approached Yamato again, her hands still wet from her morning bath. "Yamato..." Strangely her words trailed off, and she approached him softly, as if afraid to waken the fallen angel from his slumber.  
  
She held her breath as she breathed an invocation, the magic swirling behind her cinnamon eyes. As if in a trance, she lowered her hands over his heart, feeling the surprising surge of power that emerged from her hands and danced into his skin.  
  
Through her magic, she felt her way to his heart and lowered her guard, pouring her life's blood into him, the sorcery of her soul. A blue flame danced around them, it's flame neither freezing nor burning, but just hovering. Her eyes grew dilated as she pressed deeper, trying to find the core of his soul.  
  
Immediately his magic reacted, trying to wash out all trances of her presence. "Not this time," Mimi whispered, calling on more of her magic. The silence in the room was deafening, magic's noiseless chords playing a symphony of death.   
  
She nearly screamed in pain as the white light engulfed her once more, but she wouldn't give up. In her mind flickered images of death and destruction. Still her white fingers were pressed against his dead skin, her very life swirling around him in a desperate hope of revival. In a few precious seconds she would loose total control.  
  
An endless mix of blue and white light dashed past her, and she felt drained. Sinking to her knees, Mimi rested her weary head on Yamato's chest, whispering," I have failed."  
  
Suddenly the silence was gone, and the magics had stopped their violent dance of death. Instead, the two magic melded together, a beam of blue and white light radiating into Yamato's soul.  
  
Deep within his frame, a trembling started, and suddenly his soul flame burst alight, it's blue light sparkling into the very marrow of Mimi's spirit. She smiled, laughter on the tip of her lips as she started to pull back, bringing her magic within herself as Yamato's roared back to life and consumed himself.  
  
"I did it for you, my old friend," she whispered, her hand resting on his scarred cheek. Yamato's eyes opened briefly, and he moved as if to speak.  
  
"Quiet," she ordered, putting her fingers over his mouth. "You may talk later." She turned away, intent on finding Ken immediately.  
  
"Th.....Tha......."Yamato slurred, and she turned back to him, concern in her brown eyes. "Thank......you......"  
  
"You're welcome," Mimi whispered, resting her hand on the side of his face. "Thank the Creator that I could bring you back." Her magic stirred, and she brushed a piece of hair from in front of his venerable eyes. Sparks emitted from her fingers, and she jumped.  
  
Yamato's face didn't change, but his eyes were suddenly filled with hope. Mimi let her fingers fall onto his face, watching in fascination as her magic melted into Yamato's skin once more. Gold light flickered from within her very being, and liquid sunshine merged with his face, the battle-worn scars and bitter bruises disappearing.   
  
Mimi closed her eyes, losing herself in the song of her magic. Finally Yamato gently grabbed her wrist, and she opened her eyes, catching a smile on his face.  
  
All traces of the cruel injustices inflicted upon him at the Ashram of Mercy had faded, leaving the image of a whole man. He touched his face, and a look of sadness overcame his eyes as he realized for the first time since he was a child he could smile without pain rippling through his face.  
  
Mimi said nothing, but her eyes glittered with cold happiness, an empty kind of love. "That is my gift to you, Yamato. Watch your back, and bring Ken into the light." Lifting her arms, the whole house shimmered violently, and Yamato fell back. Slowly Mimi pulled her arms towards her, her magic forming a shield around her. Finally her hands clasped on her heart, and everything disappeared. "I will see you again, my dear friend," Mimi whispered in the wind as she exploded, leaving not a trace.  
  
Yamato sat up, rubbing his eyes in a dazed confusion. "Yamato?" Ken called, his cry caught in his throat as he bound through the grasses of the plains. "Yamato!" Ken's face couldn't hide his happiness and he engulfed Yamato in a hug.  
  
Yamato smiled, but his mind was elsewhere. "Your face," Ken whispered in amazement. "It's normal."  
  
"It was a gift from the witch-girl," Yamato said softly, gazing across the open plains. "She spells trouble."  
  
"What do you mean?" Ken asked, his arm burning where the tattoo was placed.  
  
"I don't know........ but I fear that we have just met someone that will prove to be more than we have bargained for."  
  



	4. Scars of the Past

Bond of the Soulby Child of the Faeries  
  
Okay, that last chapter turned out a LITTLE bit too Mimato for even me... and it wasn't even supposed to be Mimato!!! Mimi is.... never mind, I can't say that or it'll give everything away!! Anyways, this is ch.4.... the arrival of the cyber thieves.... enjoy!!!!  
  
  
  
  
They barely talked as they continued down the road, Ken hurrying to keep up with Yamato's grueling pace. "Can I ask a question?" Ken asked timidly when they stopped for a break.  
  
Yamato poured a glass of water over his head, the crystal beads sliding down his skin. "What do you want to know?" He bent down, untying his shoe.   
  
"What.... what was it that killed you?" Ken asked hesitantly, fearing Yamato's rage. Instead a wave of calmness curled around him.  
  
"Just a boy that was confused," Yamato said, a small smile on his face. "He didn't mean harm."  
  
"Didn't mean harm? He killed you," Ken said in horror, a backlash of fear in his eyes. Yamato looked up and sighed.  
  
"It was his magic that killed me," he muttered, finishing his shoe. "He was completely incapable to stop it."  
  
Ken frowned, wiping the sweat from his face. "Maybe magic should be killed." Yamato's head rose quickly, and his penetrating gaze fell upon Ken.  
  
"Is that what you really think?" he whispered, a forlorn look in his eyes. Ken nodded.  
  
"It would prevent a lot of trouble that those horrid creatures of magic produce. Everyone would be better off."  
  
"People...creatures, as you call them, would die. Is it right to kill living, breathing people?" Yamato questioned, his tranquil eyes never moving.  
  
"Yes," Ken said without a second thought. "If they are endangering the lives of other people, or could endanger lives, then I believe that they must be removed. We must look out for the good of all the people."  
  
Yamato's eyes didn't betray his feelings, and his thoughts were cloaked from Ken. "You will make a wonderful soldier," Yamato whispered. "Massah will be proud."  
  
  
  
  
The day melted into night and night into day. The two lost track of time as they traveled. Several times they had to stop, Ken breathing heavily while Yamato gazed over the endless sea of grass with indifference. Ken struggled to catch his breath and they were off again, miles behind them before Ken would fall to the ground again from exhaustion.  
  
Yamato never showed any anger or bitterness while he waited for Ken, but when Ken looked at his friend's eyes he felt a great deal was being hidden inside their murky depths.   
  
"What's that?" Yamato asked softly, his eyes staring at a distant speck against the expanse.  
  
Ken hesitated before speaking. "That is Wynedel. " He paused, turning towards Yamato quickly. "But we do not want to go there."  
  
"Why not?" Yamato said, a spark of challenge in his eyes. "Death has greeted my lips already once.... I don't fear meeting Death again."  
  
"It is not of our world," Ken said bitterly, his face gone slack. "Wynedel is the technological wonder of our planet, and viciously brutal. Villainy and turmoil in at every step, street riots and gang killings increasing everyday. That is no place for two of Massah's soldiers," he said in earnestness. "We will be slaughtered immediately."  
  
Yamato laughed, a small smile remaining on his face. "You put no faith in common men, Ken. When morality fails, there is always someone that will restore it. All you need to do is find that person." His eyes looked moody, and his side of the bond crackled with determination. He closed his eyes, as if drawing something in. "We will go to Wynedel."  
  
"Yamato-"  
  
"We must," Yamato mused, lowering his gaze. "I can't explain it..... but I fear that there is someone in Wynedel that needs our help."  
  
"Who?" Ken pressed, his hand on Yamato's shoulder.   
  
"Someone we must protect at all costs," Yamato muttered, grim conviction soaring from his eyes.  
  
  
  
"Charming neighborhood," Yamato commented, watching as two children pried the floating axles off of a car parked outside the local bar. Cars rushed overhead, and every once and a while one crashed, sailing to a grinding thud on the pavement below.   
  
Darkened pubs lined the street, men with shadowed faces flicking cigarettes on the ground as they entered. They watched as a woman whispered something into one man's ear while she slipped his wallet out of his pocket without his knowledge.  
  
"I don't like it," Ken grumbled. "We're going to get ourselves into trouble over this..."  
  
"Relax," Yamato said easily, walking down a darkened alleyway. "There's no one here that will-"  
  
An arm slinked around Yamato, it's fluid fingers catching hold of his arm deftly. "Going somewhere?" a girl daunted, her eyes glowing red from the surrounding neon signs.  
  
Yamato didn't reply, his elbow colliding against the girl's chest. She cried out in pain, and fell to the ground. Yamato pulled out his knife, it's silver blade dancing in the dimly lit ally. The girl brushed back a strand of her violet hair. "I'm not scared of your knife," the girl said bitterly, rising slowly to her feet. "You're no threat to me."  
  
"You have no business bothering us," Ken said, retrieving his knife as well. "We are soldiers on a mission to Aliadon. Your quarrel is not with us."  
  
"All of life is a game," the girl hissed, rising to her full height. "We are all merely pieces of the game......every single one of us has a part."  
  
Ken was startled by movement behind him, a flash of maroon before he could taste blood in his mouth as his face embraced the concrete. Immediately the girl was at his side, his knife drawn above him in her graceful hand. "Don't think I won't kill you," she whispered, her voice growing venomous. "I was only thirteen when I committed my first murder, and I've learned a lot since then."  
  
Anger filled Ken's mind, blinding him from everything and anything. "Such a bitter boy," the girl cooed, her lips only inches above Ken's face. "You will make such a wonderful addition to our team."  
  
"What do you want with us?" Yamato asked, his eyes poised on the other person in the ally. The red-headed boy gave him a crooked smile, and pressed a button on his wrist.  
  
"We've got them," he said softly. "We'll bring them in soon."   
  
Rage roared from both Ken and Yamato's eyes, and their magic sizzled with raw energy. "You cannot hold us prisoners," Ken said angrily. "We are imperial soldiers! It's against the law!"  
  
"My poor boy," the redhead said with a small shrug. "It's only against the law if you get caught." He gave a derisive laugh. Pressing another small button on his wrist, he caught Yamato in a beam of shimmering green light. Yamato gritted his teeth, the energy slicing through his skin. Curses streamed from his mouth.   
  
"Give in. Let the light take you," the girl muttered softly. "It's the only way."  
  
Yamato threw her an angry glare. "I will never give in to the likes of you," he said weakly, trying to hide the pain.   
  
"You will," the man said, striking Yamato hard in the back of his head. Ken felt his heart fail as Yamato fell sharply to the ground.  
  
"Don't try to resist," the girl whispered, her hand resting on his chest. "We need you."   
  
The light fell upon Ken, pain and horror washing over him. He fought to stay conscious, but already he was slipping.  
  
His hand fell to the ground, and the girl stood up, brushing away the traces of dirt. "I thought it would be harder," she said with a small laugh. "The way you spoke of them, I thought they were in the likeness of gods or something."  
  
"Don't sneer at them, Miyako," the redhead said gravely. "We caught them by surprise, and even then, we won be default. They didn't want to hurt us."  
  
"Shut up Koushiro and let's get them out of here," Miyako said, glancing nervously over her shoulder. "We wouldn't want..... anyone to find their bodies."  
  
He gave a curt nod and lifted Yamato into the back of his motor scooter. Miyako did the same for Ken. Revving his engine, Koushiro threw Miyako a heart-tugging smile as he tore through the dark streets. "I love this kind of work."  
  
  
  
  
Ken groggily opened his eyes, meeting the icy glare from the girl. She brushed back her violet hair and leaned over him, so close he could see the small circle of fear that danced in the back of her eyes.   
  
He slowly tried to turn his head, looking over at Yamato. His eyes were closed, and for a moment Ken felt as though he was looking upon something surreal and inhuman, like an angel or one of the gods. Yamato looked at peace, even in this frightening place.  
  
The walls and corners were shrouded in darkness, only tiny neon lights flickering from the endless rows of buttons and computers. Across the room Ken could see the red-haired boy typing furiously on his yellow computer, networking several things. His brow would furrow, and he would glance nervously over his shoulder once and awhile to see if anyone was watching him.  
  
"What are you going to do with us?" Ken whispered, and the girl froze, her hands rigid at her side. When Ken turned his head to look at her, she slapped him hard.  
  
"Shut up. I don't want to hear you speak again," she hissed angrily, and a sad sigh emitted from the shadows.  
  
"Miyako.... don't treat him like that," the man's voice said softly, stepping from the shadows. His pale face was troubled as he pulled a white piece of cloth from his pocket and pressed it against one of the wounds on Ken's head.   
  
"You're too soft, Jyou," she said with a sigh, turning away from him sharply. Jyou frowned.  
  
"I'm sorry my friends hurt you so much," he said apologetically, applying a bit of antiseptic onto Ken's cuts. Ken gasped in pain, and Yamato slowly opened his eyes.  
  
"What are you doing to my friend?" he asked, his tone bitter cold and angry. The man stood up, and walked over to Yamato's side.   
  
"We mean you no harm," he said softly. "I wish this could have been different... but in times such as this, we had no choice." He gave Yamato a pale smile, and coughed violently, his whole body shaking. Wiping his mouth with a clean rag, Ken was shocked to see that it was stained red with blood from his mouth. "I'm sorry," he whispered.  
  
"What's wrong with you?" Ken said harshly, and Jyou turned towards him, lowering his hands to his side wearily.  
  
His voice was no one than a whisper. "I'm dying." His eyes met Ken's. "We're all dying."  
  
"Are you the man?" Yamato whispered breathlessly, and Jyou's eyes were filled with confusion. "Are you the one that prayed to the gods for deliverance?"  
  
Jyou's cheeks were stained crimson. "What are you talking about?" Ken could feel something coming from Yamato, a growing sense of understanding, of belief.  
  
"Let us go," Yamato said gently, his eyes shining softly in the dim light. "We will help you, if you let us free." Ken didn't understand what was going on, and he wasn't sure if he wanted to know.   
  
Jyou's face was filled with indecision. "Yamato-"  
  
"Trust me," Yamato said with savage serenity in his voice. "I am Yamato Ishida from the Ashram of Mercy. No man is my equal."  
  
"Such humility," Miyako sneered from where she stood leaning over Koushiro.   
  
Yamato smiled. "I leave that to my partner here. He's humble enough for the two of us." Even Miyako's face couldn't hold back her small smile.  
  
"What are you doing?" Ken whispered softly through the bond. Yamato's side seemed to be filled with a peculiar strain of music that lingered in his ears.  
  
"They're okay," Yamato's voice murmured back. "But they need our help."  
  
"What can we do?" Ken asked out loud, and Jyou gave him a startled look. Slowly he turned towards Ken, pulling up the sleeves of his long black shirt.  
  
Sprawled across his wrist was the cursed black rose, identical to the tattoo that was branded into Ken's wrist. "This is killing us."  
  
Ken's mind raced in fear. "What do you mean?" He blinked rapidly, his hands cold against his flesh.  
  
Koushiro stood up, moving away from the computer. The blue triangle that was tattooed into his cheek glittering in the semidarkness. "This triangle is our brand, our mark. It shows that we are cyber-thieves. That's our profession. Pay us enough, and we can hack into anything and get you whatever you want." His face glowed with pride.  
  
"We're good at it, too," Miyako said disdainfully." No one was better than us in all of Wynedel. It was the high-life for us....all the beer and drugs we could afford. Fancy vehicles and exclusive privileges. We had friends in distinguished positions...." She closed her eyes, remembering the days past. Yamato's eyes fell on her fading black pants and grimy rose-colored shirt, trailing up to her pale skin hidden behind her own blue tattoo. "Then we got caught."  
  
"Got caught?" he asked, raising his golden eyebrow. Jyou sighed.   
  
"It was a set-up from the beginning. We should have known it was too good to be true," he said, his voice frustrated.   
  
"What happened?" Ken asked, barely able to breath.  
  
"We took the job, and headed up to Tomichi. That's where we were supposed to meet this guy. All we had to do was steal a stupid disk from his house. No problem, especially for experts like us." Jyou lowered his head. "It all went bad after that. We got the disk....And after that is darkness."  
  
"The next thing we knew, we were chained onto medical beds somewhere in the middle of nowhere. Doctors leaned over us, whispering things that we didn't understand. Finally they approached our beds, and dug their needles into us, drawing this on each of our wrists," Miyako said sadly, displaying her tattoo to Yamato.  
  
"What is it?" he asked, clearly never have seen it before.  
  
"People have nicknamed it the kiss of death," Koushiro said in a muted voice. "I think of it more as the Mark of the Devil. It identifies you as one with the DreamChasers, the Massahs that have turned to the darkness."  
  
"How can it be killing you?" Ken whispered.   
  
"We have secretly been working on a rebellion here in Wynedel," Jyou said, sitting on the ground. "At first, we didn't even notice. But as time went on, it was harder and harder to keep up with others, harder to stay awake. Finally Koushiro learned that a rare kind of cancer has started to grow inside of our bodies."  
  
"It's not from a toxin that you might have come in contact with during some of your work?" Yamato questioned.  
  
"If only it was," Jyou said sadly. "We haven't stolen anything for over half a year. It couldn't be that."  
  
"Why would it strike you now?" Yamato asked, his mind thirsting for the answers.  
  
"Because we are doing something good," Koushiro said simply. "Before, our work helped build chaos and violence, encouraging people to be brutal and savage." He paused. "I believe that there are nanocritters inside the ink that react in the form of a carcinogen when you go against the DreamChasers."  
  
"So what, you three are just their pawns, unable to do anything against their will? Are you no better than slaves?" Ken said slowly, and Miyako's eyes flashed.  
  
"We bow to no one," she seethed, and Jyou motioned to calm her.  
  
"I don't know what the DreamChasers's agenda is, but they want to throw the world into chaos," Koushiro continued. "We're working on figuring out how exactly they are going to do that, but so far there are no leads." Ken's heart turn cold.  
  
"They want to get rid off all magic," he breathed, his chest taunt.  
  
Silence reigned in the room. "Who told you that?" Yamato asked in amazement.  
  
"The sorceress-"  
  
"A witch-woman?" Jyou said, suspicion in his voice. "Those with magic are not be trusted. I only trust those within my own technological world. At least I can tell when they lie."  
  
Ken opened his mouth to speak again, but Yamato willed him to be silent. "What can we do to help you?" he asked softly.  
  
Jyou's eyes flickered softly in the light. "Only you can help us, Yamato. Ken cannot."  
  
"Why can't I?" Ken said, humiliated.  
  
"Your blood is tainted," Jyou said indifferently. "Had we known that in the beginning, we never would have captured you. But it's too late now."  
  
Ken's eyes began to burn with fury. Why was he always proved inferior to Yamato? Ken was the one born of noble blood. He was the one that wore white, symbolizing purity and honesty. Yamato wore rags.   
  
Yamato closed his eyes, and Ken felt a cold stir in the back of his mind. "What do you need me to do?" Yamato whispered finally, and the cyber-thieves breathed a sigh of relief.  
  
"It's simple, really," Miyako said, sitting on the cold ground. "We just need a bit of your blood."  
  
"My blood?" Yamato said, shock dancing in his eyes. Koushiro sighed.  
  
"I have determined that we are lacking a certain genetic element that could dispose of the cancer in our bodies. After finding the right genetic sequence, all I had to do was punch it through the computer and find a suitable match within our area."  
  
"And you found that I matched?" Yamato said softly, and his face flickered briefly with disbelief.  
  
"All of the soldiers from the Ashram of Mercy proved positive," Jyou whispered, his face lined. "But you two were closest. And no one would notice if you were gone."  
  
Horror washed through their bond, and Ken felt Yamato pull back his dark thoughts, veiling them from Ken's eyes. "Release us," Yamato said gracefully, and Jyou stooped to unlatch the buckles and wires that held them down.  
  
Rubbing his wrists angrily, Ken stared at the group of cyber-thieves. "When will you start to process?" Yamato said, leaning wearily against the wall.  
  
"Not until tonight," Koushiro said with finality. "When the moon rises high in the sky."  
  
  
  
"Why are you doing this?" Ken asked Yamato furiously. "You're going to get yourself killed, you know that."  
  
"That would be a trick, getting killed twice in one month," Yamato said laconically, staring out the grimy windows to the dirty city below.   
  
"What am I going to do without you?" Ken demanded. "I can't make it out there alone. I already lost you once, and I'm not about to lose you again, just to save some cyber-punk's lives."  
  
Yamato shook his gorgeous head sadly. "You know so little about people, Ken. You don't trust anyone."  
  
"And you are far too trusting," Ken shot back, anger in his eyes.   
  
"Look at them," Yamato said, gently turning Ken's head to where the three sat. Miyako's forehead was beaded with sweat, and Jyou continued to gag up bloody coughs. "If I don't help them, they will die."  
  
"But they are no one of importance," Ken almost screamed at his friend. "They mean nothing to us."  
  
"How do you know that? What if one of them is destined to save all of us from destruction? How could you tell?"  
  
Yamato's words stung Ken's soul. "I guess I can't," he admitted sullenly. "But I still think they are of no consequence to us."  
  
"Right now, they do seem that way. But who knows how life changes people.... A little over a year again, you were a spoiled noblemen, and now look at you.... an orphan's best friend."  
  
"That's different," Ken protested, and Yamato laid his hand on his friend's shoulder.  
  
"Only in your eyes," Yamato murmured, rising slowly to his feet and walking over to the others.  
  
  
  
Ken and Yamato had fallen asleep, their light snores lifting softly in the air. Koushiro looked out the broken window to the stars above. Slowly he rose his hand as if to touch the stars, to feel their burning intensity. "Is this right?" he mumbled. "Should we really be tampering with magic like this?"  
  
Jyou sat up from the shadows, his body wracking with a silent cough. "What choice do we have?"  
  
"I'm sure I could find some other way-"  
  
"There is no other way," Jyou muttered. "You forget that I was raised with magic."  
  
"Will this cure us?" Koushiro asked, lowering his fingers slowly.  
  
"I don't know," Jyou replied softly. "We're cyber-thieves, not wizards. A number of things could go wrong."  
  
"But you said that you have magic in your blood, and you can get it to work," Koushiro protested loudly, and Miyako stirred restlessly in her sleep.  
  
"I said I could try. At worst, we could not be healed. Or turned into vampires."  
  
Koushiro's fear filled the room. "What?"  
  
"It's a possibility," Jyou said carelessly. "With magic, you never know."  
  
"You really know nothing about magic, do you?" a voice spoke from the darkness, and both boys jumped.   
  
Yamato came to their side gently. "Magic has to be given freely to work right. You can't force a person to risk their life for you."  
  
Koushiro looked nervous. "What are you saying?"  
  
"I will freely help you, to save your lives, because I believe in what you are doing," Yamato said in a muted voice. "The worlds are colliding, technological and magical, supernatural, and militaristic. Men are seeking for new gods, new idols to plunder under. This world is about to be ripped apart by civil war."  
  
"Are you telling the truth?" Jyou asked nervously, and Yamato nodded sadly.  
  
"These DreamChasers want to bring death to all that oppose them.... but we need to fight back. Fight the Future." Yamato lifted his eyes out the window and for a moment they seemed to glow. "Has the moon risen high enough in the sky?"  
  
Koushiro looked up and nodded solemnly. He moved to wake Miyako, and Jyou brought out a knife made of pure gold.  
  
A faint strain of fear ran through the back of Yamato's mind, remembering a similar gold knife so many years before.... Harshly he looked at the ground, clearing his mind. This was something he had to do.  
  
In the corner all alone, Ken stirred, and opened his eyes sleepily. Seeing the others talking softly, he rose to join them. Suddenly he coughed, gasping as he spit onto the ground.  
  
Slowly he lowered his eyes to the small puddle of blood that swirled at his feet, red blood dripping from his mouth and from his cursed scar.  
  
  
  



End file.
